[h2]Varian Sigmund - Dalenham, Ethora[/h2]

Varian eyed Edon curiously as the man grabbed for the coins without checking for anything. He wondered briefly what his reasons for doing so were. Did he trust Varian and believe he was honest enough to split it wisely? Did he not want to seem to eager to do so in front of others and risk unwanted attention? Did he simply forget due to stupidity? It could have been any number of reasons. The man did not strike Varian as someone interested in the money. At least, not to the extent of being greedy. Soon enough Varian dropped the thought out of his mind. He shook his head, and took a few gulps of his Orbrigg Ale before slamming the goblet on the table, satisfyingly letting the aftertaste develop in his mouth. 

As Varian prepared to speak, he was interrupted by a throat clearing from a short, stout man in front of him. The plump man wore a large, hooded black cloak, and although Varian was no connoisseur on clothing, he could tell it was crafted of luxurious material, perhaps silk. The man kept very well hidden that which he wore underneath, but Varian could have sworn he saw some sort of jewelry on his garb. No matter how well the man probably tried to hide it, he was evidently quite wealthy.

“Excuse me, but I do believe I overheard that you are in fact mercenaries, is that correct?”

Varian looked back at the others, and then turned to the man in the cloak. He put one arm over the back of his chair as he continued to gaze at him. “I suppose we are.” Varian finally replied, much to the apparent joy of the cloaked man.

“Splendid!” He exclaimed, perhaps too loudly for which he intended, causing him to look around the tavern to make sure nobody else heard. After composing himself, he spoke again. “I am in desperate need of assistance, and I have no one else to turn to. My daughter has been taken by brigands. They took her north and are holed up north in a fort just outside of Curilan. I have sent others to try and release her, but none have returned. I implore you, please rescue my daughter!”

In Varian’s eyes, the man seemed sincere. It was against his better judgment to usually go directly for the client instead of through contractors, but he seemed like he was distressed and in desperate need of assistance. But Varian knew the others might be tired from just accomplishing one mission, and might have liked to stay in the city for a few nights before going on another job. He disliked the notion of turning down a potential client, but the lives and well-being of his group would always take precedent over the client.

“Sorry, but we’ve only just returned from a job of our own, and we’re tired. I’m sure you can find ano-“ Varian was suddenly interrupted by the man in the cloak. 

“How much did you earn on your last job?”

Varian looked at him curiously, bringing his mug up to his mouth and taking a gulp of the ale, and replied. “30 silver.” The man was quick to respond.

“I will pay you 30 silver to each of you, and an additional 200 to be split amongst the survivors upon completion.” He said, unflinchingly. Varian nearly spit out his drink from his mouth as he heard the offer. He place the mug down on the table and eyed the man suspiciously.

“Who are you exactly?” Varian questioned him. The man in the cloak looked around for a moment before replying. “I am... a reputable merchant wishing only to have my daughter returned to me.”

"Most 'reputable merchants' don't mind sharing their name," Varian shot back. 

"You'll forgive me if I don't share my name, but I came with the job offer under the intention of secrecy," The cloaked merchant explained. "Had I not wanted that, I would have chosen a more... direct way of getting my daughter back to me. This offer shall only come once. Either accept it, or do not.”

Varian sighed and leaned back a bit further in his chair. He looked over the faces of the others.